


Proper Motivation

by ageless_aislynn



Series: Partners In Crime [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Snowells, Snowellsweek2016, reversefrost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ageless_aislynn/pseuds/ageless_aislynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eobard promised he could help Caitlin learn to control her deadly metahuman abilities. So far, he hasn't had much success. For <a href="http://supercavanatic.tumblr.com/post/145219540380/snowwells-week-2016-prompt-list">Snowells Week 2016</a>, Day 6, prompt: Free Theme, a sequel to <a href="http://signed-aislynn.livejournal.com/41369.html">"By Any Other"</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper Motivation

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing the tradition started last year, *blush* ;) this ran overlong and I wasn't able to get it posted on the last day of Snowells Week. I suppose the series name really should've been "Better late than never," lol! ;) If you read, I hope you enjoy! ♥
> 
> This also has a home at [LJ](http://signed-aislynn.livejournal.com/47997.html) and [Tumblr](http://ageless-aislynn.tumblr.com/post/146631392295/fic-proper-motivation-caitlinharrison-the). If you read, I hope you enjoy! ♥

_All in all,_ Eobard mused, _the Reverse Flash and Killer Frost made a rather fine team._

The easy camaraderie they'd once had as Harrison Wells and Caitlin Snow hadn't miraculously reappeared but that was understandable: they were hardly those same people. But now that the layer of subterfuge had been stripped away, their connection seemed purer, stronger. They could communicate with little more than a glance, changing plans, improvising, falling in sync together with the grace of longtime dance partners.

When they were in the middle of some mischief, she seemed happier than he had seen her since the ice had taken her over. Which wasn't much, of course, but it was something.

But in between the mischief, when there was nothing else to distract her, the anger and the hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her.

He had offered to help her learn to control her abilities but so far, he had been unable to make good on it.

He'd gone so far as to give her free rein in his secret lab -- one of them -- in his secret lair -- one of them -- and he had even come up with an improvised detonation chamber, similar to what bombs were disposed in, so that she could absorb the heat and energy from various types of explosions without fear of shrapnel.

It was a Band-Aid, at best, but it had been the only thing they'd found that could give her at least a few minutes of freedom from the ice.

She paced. A lot. That was another difference from the pre-metahuman Caitlin Snow. This Caitlin Snow brimmed with a constant flow of restless energy. At first, he'd thought she was refusing to sleep when they were under the same roof because she simply didn't trust him. Eventually, he realized she just rarely slept, _period_. Icicles had a habit of bristling out of her skin whenever she tried to let down her guard enough to sleep, a thousand tiny needles piercing bloodlessly through her, keeping her from being able to truly relax.

He was about 98% certain that it was a form of penance, that she didn't believe she had the _right_ to sleep peacefully after all she'd now done, but even hinting at that would get objects thrown at his head so he didn't suggest it very often.

He sat with his booted feet casually propped on his computer desk, watching her none-too-covertly over the top of his monitor. There was a moment when he could nearly picture Cisco's astonished expression at seeing his button-downed "mentor" slouching in such a manner at work.

Of course, Cisco would've probably been a lot more interested in Caitlin's much more drastic transformation than in discovering "Dr. Wells" liked to put his feet up on the furniture.

"This is ridiculous!"

Ice shattered as she made an angry gesture with one hand and the ambient temperature in the room dropped. The protective measures kicked in, chugging softly to try to prevent damage to any of the sensitive equipment.

 _At least she doesn't take us to Arctic temps as much as she used to,_ he thought. He'd amassed quite a fortune in both legal and ill-gotten gain over the years but having to continually replace frozen computers had threatened to carve a serious dent out of it until she'd learned at least that much control.

"Why don't we have lunch?" he suggested without bothering to ask what she was calling ridiculous. It was inevitably the same thing and it tended to make her even frostier, literally, to repeat her frustrations out-loud.

"Lunch doesn't solve the world's problems, Eobard," she retorted testily.

"We don't need to solve the world's problems anymore, dear," he said mildly. "We're the bad guys, remember? So... Lunch?"

She gave him a look that would've been aptly termed _cold_ even without her icy skin but her shoulders slumped slightly and he knew she'd relented.

 

* * * 

 

Later, watching her furiously stir a cup of hot tea only to have the spoon lodge into a frozen block in mere seconds, something occurred to him.

"Why don't you grab a bottle of water?" he suggested just as she was about to hurl the cute little teacup into the wall.

It was enough to make her pause in mid-throw. One of the kitchen drones had rolled into position a few feet away, prepared to sweep up the broken porcelain. The drones had been one of his better inventions since Killer Frost had begun frequenting his lair. Otherwise, he would've had to spend all his time on his head sweeping up the latest remnants of her temper-tantrum and that would've left very little time for plotting out his next nefarious plan.

"What? Why do I need a bottle of water?" she asked.

"Hydration is very important," he said in his best _sage advice_ voice and she looked askance at him but went ahead and set the cup back on the table. The drone withdrew with a confused _whir?_

She returned from the refrigerator with a bottle and, noting his scrutiny, unscrewed the cap with a little more force than necessary before taking a drink. "There, satisfied?"

A smile spread across his face in stages. "Of course. Of _course._ We were both so focused on the bigger, complicated issues, we missed something infinitely simple. Look at the bottle. Notice anything?"

She turned it over in her hand, a quizzical gleam in her pale eyes as the water sloshed to and fro. Then she looked up at him in something akin to triumph. "Why didn't it freeze?"

"The better question is: why are you able to eat food at all? Why isn't everything you put in your mouth turned to ice cubes the second it hits your tongue? This is proof that, on some level, you _can_ control your abilities. If you couldn't, you would've died of thirst before you even had time to die of starvation."

She picked up the cup again, turning it over in her hands a few times and studying the way the spoon stuck out like the stick of some sort of weird tea-popsicle. "But this?"

He shrugged. "As important as _I_ personally find tea, it isn't actually necessary to support life."

She nodded thoughtfully. "So how does this information help?"

"It means we have to find the way to get your subconscious mind to give you some of that control."

"Well, let's get to work, then," she said impatiently, taking a few purposeful strides away. But then she paused, glanced down at the drone, then deliberately pitched the cup into the wall. As the pieces rained down, the drone made several happy _whupwhup_ noises as it began cleaning up.

"Now you're just humoring him," he drawled and could've sworn her mouth came perilously close to a smile before she turned away.

 

* * * 

 

Results weren't immediate but Eobard remained convinced that they were, at last, on the right track.

"You just need the proper motivation," he insisted, urging her into the kitchen and directing her to sit at a table while he fussed at the counter.

"This," he said a short while later, placing a bright yellow mug in front of her, "is the most expensive cup of coffee in all of Central City. It's a blend I have imported from a country so secret you won't find it on any map, with beans roasted by clerics who train their entire lives to achieve the rank of master. It costs $150 a pound but they say that a single taste qualifies as one of the top 5 experiences in a person's life."

She arched a brow at him so high it threatened to disappear completely into her platinum blonde hairline.

"You," he continued, "are going to drink it without freezing it."

She turned the handle of the mug so that it orientated to the right, revealing the words in red that proclaimed "Speedsters Do It Faster" with "Faster" crossed out and "Better" written next to it. It had appeared in the kitchen cupboard not long after she had started spending time in the lair but she'd steadfastly denied any knowledge of its origins.

"That's also my favorite mug," he finished. "Don't you dare damage it."

She tentatively picked it up and her fingertips glistened.

"Caitlin," he snapped. " _Do not_ freeze the most expensive cup of coffee in the city. Drink it."

Normally, he'd found a neutral, non-aggressive tone to be the best one to take with her but this seemed to do the trick.

The sheen of ice melted away from her fingers. Steam swirled up lazily from the mug and quickly, as if afraid to delay a second longer, she took a sip.

Then she wrinkled her nose and made the most amazing disgusted face. "That is _not_ the most expensive cup of coffee in the city."

"Of course not. Do you think I'm going to give you coffee that costs $150 a pound on your first test run? The test run gets store-bought. You can have the expensive one later."

Her eyes narrowed and he knew she was considering riddling his yellow-suit-covered backside with icicles. He gave her his best innocent face and her lips twitched again.

"That expensive one had better be worth it," she muttered into the coffee and took another sip. "This is terrible!"

But she kept drinking and by the time the mug was empty, there was no sign of frost anywhere and her pale skin had acquired a very slight flush, not quite enough to have resumed her original coloring but there was definitely progress.

"Hey, aren't you going to wash that?" he asked when she got up and started to leave the mug behind on the table.

She just shot him a look over her shoulder and strolled away with a chuckle.

He waited until she was gone before he grinned. _Well,_ progress _doesn't mean_ miracle, _after all_ , he thought and washed the mug himself.

 

* * *

 

Most great scientific breakthroughs consisted more of _one step forward, two steps back_ than _single moment of inspiration and everything works perfectly after that_. Eobard reminded himself of that multiple times in the next few weeks as Caitlin's control of her abilities seemed to go on a whim from near-mastery to causing it to snow overnight in the lair so thickly that all of their electronics shorted out. Twice.

"All right, let's try this again," he said, struggling to keep the frustration from showing as he ushered her into the kitchen. "Sit while I'm making the coffee. And _this_ time, I really am breaking out the good stuff and, so help me, Cait, if you freeze my expensive coffee, I will _not_ be pleased."

"Eobard."

"Hm?" He didn't turn as he went to retrieve his private stash from the safe hidden in the cupboard.

" _Eobard_."

Now he turned. "What?" he said but his testy tone fell off as she approached. He'd become quite familiar with her many moods and expressions over time now, but this wasn't one he knew.

"You keep telling me that I need to find something that I want enough, something that gives me proper motivation," she said and he nodded.

She drew in an even, measured breath and, as she exhaled, color bloomed through the paleness in a wave from the top of her head on down. Her eyes, once more a warm brown, met his steadily. "It's not coffee."

She reached up slowly and he held very still as she touched the side of his face with her bare hand. "Are you afraid of me?" she whispered.

"Are you planning on killing me so as to take over my criminal empire? Because if you are, that's actually not a bad way to go." His words and tone were flippant but his expression was far from it.

"If you're not interested..." she began and he caught her hand as she started to draw back.

"Did I say that? I'm fairly certain I didn't." He turned his face enough to press a kiss into her palm and she shuddered.

"You know it's been a while for me," she said, her voice shaky. "What about you?"

He gave her a crooked smile. "I'm _fairly_ certain I can remember how it all goes," he purred teasingly. "But if you have any suggestions, I'll give them appropriate consideration and--"

She practically lunged at him, cutting him off with a quick, hard kiss, before pulling back and looking at him with wild eyes.

He hummed in pleasure, cupping her face in his hands. "I'm sure you can do better than that," he murmured and she gave him the defiant expression he adored.

"Here?" she asked, a clear challenge in her voice.

"Nah," he demurred. "Let's not traumatize the drones like that. I happen to have a bedroom. Care to see it?"

"Why, yes, I think I would," she said and kissed him again but with less fear and a great deal more fire.

 

* * *

 

They ended up traumatizing the kitchen drones.

 

* * *

 

Much later, after also traumatizing the drones that kept the living room tidy and then those who watched over the long hallway that led to his bedroom, he was brought awake by a chill emanating from the woman draped across him. Even in the low light, he could see the paleness starting to creep down from the roots of her hair.

He moved and she grumped slightly at being disturbed but obligingly rolled over and went straight back to sleep. The frost continued to travel down her hair and cold radiated from her skin at a more pronounced degree. Not dangerous, yet, but soon. He could've woken her, insisted on her trying to establish control again, but...

He could see her face. Peaceful. Relaxed.

So instead he grabbed the blanket from where it had gotten kicked to the foot of the bed, folding it over several times so it could act as a barrier between her bare skin and his. His accelerated healing ability would protect him for a short time, though he'd have to be wary of using vibration to stave off frostbite, which would inevitably generate heat that would garner the attention of the voracious hunger inside of her.

"I'll make you the expensive coffee for breakfast tomorrow, I promise," he whispered, nestling in beside her.

Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her for a long while, as long as he safely could, and then he stretched his abilities and went beyond that even a little more. 

Apparently, he wasn't immune to proper motivation, either.


End file.
